


the skin i'm in

by havisham



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, M/M, Skinwalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 21:24:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17129006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: Tim pressed the button in the wax museum and woke up in his old apartment with Danny sprawled out on his couch.





	the skin i'm in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [track_04](https://archiveofourown.org/users/track_04/gifts).



Tim hit the button for the timer and closed his eyes. When he opened them again -- _and how could he open them again unless Jon had fucked up again?_ \-- he was back in his old apartment and his brother, Danny, was sprawled out on the couch in front of him, asleep. 

He knew that this was a cruel trick, that Danny was dead and he, too, should be dead. The thing that wore Danny’s skin should be dead too -- if Jon hadn’t fucked up, which Tim was certain now that he had, of course he had. Then, Danny woke up and spotted him. His eyes lit up and he smiled. “Tim! You’re back?” 

Danny was too surprised to yell when Tim knocked him back -- his head cracking sharply against the wall -- and looked helplessly as he pulled against his skin. “What are you doing? Tim! Tim, what’s wrong with you? Stop it!” 

“You’re not Danny,” Tim spat out. “How dare you use him like this.” 

The thing that had Danny’s skin looked wounded for a moment, before it smiled, a smile that looked entirely wrong on Danny’s face. “What a clever boy you are, Tim. Most people are so grateful for a second chance that they don’t care where they get it.” 

“We stopped the ceremony,” Tim said, leaving the ‘I hope’ unsaid but very much implied. 

Not-Danny cocked his head inquisitively. “It doesn’t matter for you, Tim, if the ceremony ended or succeeded or anything. You belong to us, now. The Eye can’t see you here.” 

“That’ll piss off Elias,” Tim said. There didn’t seem to be more to say than that for the moment. 

“I wouldn’t worry about him -- or any of them. You’ll never see them again. You’ve got what you wanted, haven’t you?” Not-Danny stretched out his arms. “Your beloved brother Danny’s attention! For all of eternity! Isn’t it marvelous?” 

At that moment, Tim’s stomach growled. It felt as though he hadn’t eaten anything for a hundred years. He left Not-Danny in the living room and went over to the kitchen. Inside the fridge were several cartons of takeout and some desultory attempts at healthy eating. He might have been stuck in a hell of his own making, but the sights and smells of his old kitchen were absolutely accurate. 

Not-Danny had wandered behind him and sniffed curiously at the styrofoam box of chicken curry. “I wouldn’t eat that, mate. You don’t really know how old leftovers are in an endless hellscape like this is.” 

He was right. There were some frozen meals in the freezer. Tim took one out and popped it in the microwave and waited for it to warm through. He didn’t offer Not-Danny anything. The dead didn’t eat, after all. 

Over a dinner of farfalle with red pesto, he asked Not-Danny what exactly the Stranger intended to do with him. Skin him? Exile him into a maddening world of automatons? Force him to work at the skincare counter at some department store? 

Not-Danny frowned at him. “They don’t tell _me_ , my dear. I’m only a clown to them. A clown that utterly failed to neutralize a threat like _you_.” He leaned closer to Tim, who leaned away. “Besides, between you and me, I think I’ve angered them, with failing to end the world once again. Nikola wants nothing to do with me, I’m sure.” 

“What’s this? Office politics with the Stranger?” 

“You know how it is -- I’m sure there were plenty of times when you could’ve killed and skinned Jon or Elias. It isn’t as if the Eye is any better than we are.” 

“Elias can eat shit. Jon’s just hopeless.” 

“Indeed,” Not-Danny said. “This is a cheeky request, but what if you and I left here? We needn’t be beholden to the Powers that claimed us. They’re done with us, my dear. We’re free agents now.” 

“I don’t believe you. It’s not that easy.” 

“No,” Not-Danny agreed. “Well, why don’t you take a look outside, then? See what you’re dealing with here.” 

As much as Tim hated to follow his not-brother’s advice, he did it, out of both curiosity and pique. It wasn’t like he could go anywhere else, after all. 

The world outside his old apartment seemed normal, except that all the people and animals in it had been replaced by softly ticking automatons that moved with jerky motions and then would abruptly stop and stare at him with empty, hollow eyes. Frankly, it was creepy, although Tim figured none of those empty vessels would stop him from indulging in a bit of shoplifting -- and he was right. 

When he returned to his apartment with a bag of crisps and a drink, Not-Danny was waiting for him, considerably excited. “I found it,” he said, grabbing Tim by his collar and dragging him toward a small wooden door in the middle of the corridor where, Tim was fairly certain, no door had been before. 

“Ah -- this is Spiral shit, isn’t it?” Tim said, alarmed. “I wouldn’t go through there. Aren’t the Spiral and the Stranger enemies?” 

“Of a sort,” Not-Danny said. “But I’ve got a way to navigate it.” He demonstrated by peeling off a strip of skin from his palm and twisting it and twisting it until it became a long, thin thread. 

“Ugh, stop it,” Tim muttered. 

“Don’t you want get back to the real world, Tim?” 

Did he? He was as good as dead there, and if, by some infernal miracle he should be able to get back home -- back to the Archives -- then would any of this matter? He didn’t want to serve the Eye. He didn’t give a shit about the Archives. He’d wanted to avenge Danny’s death, but now he seemed stuck with a grinning mockery of his brother. 

“How do I know you won’t push me through some terrible door and go off and steal someone else’s skin?” 

“You don’t,” Not-Danny said cheerfully. “Such is the richness of life. But I’ll tell you want -- I really _like_ being Danny Stoker. I hardly need to moisturize, he’s very genetically gifted -- and _very_ fit. I don’t mind being him forever. Or for however long _you_ survive, Tim.” 

There was a sparkle of mischief in his eyes when he said, “Besides, you know that the skin is the body’s largest organ? Danny may be gone, but there’s so much left of him, things that are ingrained in him. He truly did love you, Tim. He came back to you, despite it all. Isn’t that touching?” 

“Fuck off,” Tim muttered, and opened the door. On the other side, he saw a narrow wallpapered corridor. There was a strange smell that wafted toward him, like old National Geographics all stacked together. Not-Danny stood beside him and companionably took his hand. His skin was hot and dry, despite his claims at moisturization. 

But Tim couldn’t remember what Danny’s skin had felt like, when it belonged to him. There was nothing to be done here, he thought, and went through the door with the thing that had once been his brother. 


End file.
